I can’t tell you — but you feel it —
Nor can you tell me —
Saints, with ravished slate and pencil
Solve our April Day!

Sweeter than a vanished frolic
From a vanished green!
Swifter than the hoofs of Horsemen
Round a Ledge of dream!

Modest, let us walk among it
With our faces veiled —
As they say polite Archangels
Do in meeting God!

Not for me — to prate about it!
Not for you — to say
To some fashionable Lady
“Charming April Day”!

Rather — Heaven’s “Peter Parley”!
By which Children slow
To sublimer Recitation
Are prepared to go!

Analysis, meaning and summary of Emily Dickinson's poem I can’t tell you — but you feel it

2 Comments

  1. IM A DUDE says:
    November 8, 2005 at 12:18 pm

    this poem makes no sense to me it may 2 jessica but not me im glad u like it keep up tha TIGHT ROLLIN HaRD WORK CUh

    Reply
  2. jessica lacey says:
    June 23, 2005 at 10:08 pm

    the poem spoke to me. It made me feel inspired to write more and more until i have the courage to read it.

    Reply

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